I have recently been questioning one of my deepest held beliefs. Not that I would ever doubt spirits existence, or that we are eternal souls, no, I have no problems with that. What I have been doubting is the almost universal belief that somehow, love conquers all. It seems to me that everywhere I look, either on Facebook or within spiritual internet sites, the over-riding message is that love is all you need, love will overcome anything, love is the key to happiness. I have been struggling with this the past few years. Yes, I believe that if we all based our decisions on love, our actions on love and our thoughts on love, the world would be a better place, but unfortunately not everyone does!

Maybe it is true in the universal sense, and maybe it is also true in a soul sense, when you take many lives and average it all out, but I’m talking about this one particular physical life we are living right now. In my experience, and that of some of my closest friends, no matter how much you love someone, they can still use you, betray you and abuse you. Recently a very dear friend of mine had been blatantly used and deeply hurt by someone she considered a life-long friend, a woman she had always tried to help and support in any way she could. She can find no rhyme or reason for her friend’s behaviour and is extremely upset. I feel powerless as all I can do is listen but I can’t take away her pain. Finally, after many weeks of emotional hurt she came to the decision to end their friendship. Whilst that may well help her to avoid any further mistreatment by her friend, she is left still reeling from recent events. I wonder what lessons are being taught when someone who so obviously cares about another is mistreated by them.

My own personal experiences have been difficult to contend with at times. I used to firmly believe that if you showed someone love and compassion that they would treat you well, but often through my life I have found the absolute opposite to be true. I have puzzled over this many times and had thought that it must be a certain kind of lesson that needed learning. I have even tried to feel grateful for the role that someone must have agreed to play to assist me in walking my spiritual path.

Logically it makes sense to me that kindness should help people to overcome their difficulties. This is something I have pondered for such a long time and have asked my spiritual guides for some guidance on this but so far have not received any answers.

When you make the decision to help someone, in whichever way you feel they may benefit, whether it is just a gentle hug, a time to listen to them, or assistance in a more physical sense, why do they then turn around and be rude or malicious towards you?

It has happened in my life so many times that I can see a pattern of events. What I am hoping is that one day I will have a ‘light-bulb’ moment and suddenly the reason behind this will fall into place. My husband, Simon, tells me that he thinks I am too gentle, too soft and too forgiving. I have so often wished I could toughen up as I think my life may be so much easier, but the problem with that is that I wouldn’t be me anymore.

My brother always used to laugh at my tolerance and lack of temper. Considering the parents I had, who honestly could have won the olympics if there had been an arguing event, you’d have thought I would have a quick temper, but this isn’t true at all.

I still remember my Mum’s look of amazement when she saw me lose my temper for the very first time when I was fourteen. We had been to visit Dad in hospital where he had just undergone life saving surgery and he was on full life support, so to say we were concerned and stressed was an understatement. Mum was driving our large estate car, and I have to say she wasn’t the most confident of drivers at the best of times, but with the worry of Dad obviously on her mind, she had become distracted and taken a wrong turn. We ended up in a very narrow dead-end street with cars parked each side. At the very end there was little space to turn around. It was only just after 9pm, so not what you would call very late. Mum had to try to turn the car around which meant going backwards and forwards many many times. She was, I admit, revving the engine a little whilst trying to navigate safely and gently between the cars, but the noise wasn’t that bad. Well this chap came out of his house and started really shouting abuse at Mum. Without a thought I jumped out of the car and walked right up to him and gave him such a ticking off. I was livid that he had upset my Mum and certainly let him know it. I told him where we’d been and what was happening to my Dad. Much to my surprise the man became very apologetic and offered to help Mum with the reversing. What a turn-around!

I have always found it easier to fight other people’s battles rather than my own. My brother used to say that I was like the worm that turned, and by that he meant you could push me so far and then that was that. How right he was. I have to admit that I can take an awful lot but finally there is the straw that breaks the camels back, and funnily enough it is often a very little straw!

I have had to break ties with people I have truly loved because they have behaved so badly towards me, and it comes to a point when you realise that all the love in the world cannot change their behaviour, and so very sadly and reluctantly, there really is no choice but to walk away. Sometimes the hurt of staying in a relationship becomes so deep that your physical body cannot cope with the pain, and sometimes, and possibly even more importantly, you have to learn to value and respect yourself, which I have found the toughest lesson to learn.

I saw this too with my own Mum. She tried so very hard to have a good relationship with her Step-Mother and did everything she could to try to make it work. When we were a young family we would all travel up to London to see my Nan. We would make this journey at least once a month. Mum and Dad would have to save hard to pay for the petrol and would always be praying that the car wouldn’t break down because it was pretty old and extremely unreliable. At the time there were no such things as baby seats in cars and Mum would have to spend two hours sitting in the back of the car with my twin, Tina, and I in her arms. She laughed when she told us by the time they got there her arms couldn’t move! As Tina and I became older we both suffered from dreadful car sickness. How Mum and Dad coped with this I just don’t know, it must have been a nightmare for them. I know that Mum would always keep a couple of spare outfits for us and on many occasions as soon as we arrived at Nan’s house we would have to nip upstairs and change into fresh clothes. Thankfully our older brother Ray was not car sick, that would have been unbearable!

When Tina and I were eleven we went to stay with Nan for the week before we started at senior school. Mum and Dad took us up there and we spent a wonderful time with her. We went to see shows in London and enjoyed meeting all of her friends and generally having fun. When the week was up Mum and Dad came and collected us and strangely the mood in the car on the way home was decidedly frosty. Sadly for us, that was the last time we ever saw our Nan. A week or so after our holiday Mum made the decision to break all ties with her. I was devastated. I had adored Nan and couldn’t understand how Mum could be so cruel.

As a young child, what I hadn’t known was that my Nan could actually drive and had a very nice car. She would tell Mum of all the trips she took to see her various relatives all over the country and yet she had only ever made the journey to visit us once in the eighteen years since Mum had married. Nan was very comfortably off and would help all her relatives, and yet she never once offered any help to Mum at all. Mum told me years later that she had spent so much time broken-hearted at the way Nan treated her that finally she couldn’t take the hurt anymore. I know now it was not an easy decision for Mum to make and I know that she remained extremely upset about it for the rest of her life. She had lost her Dad when she was in her early twenties, and having been told that her natural Mother had abandoned her as a baby, she had desperately wanted to have a loving relationship with Nan.

It took me a very long time to realise that what I and others had perceived as weakness, was in fact an enormous act of strength on my Mum’s part. I can’t imagine the courage she must have mustered to be able to walk away under those circumstances, but she did, and I am sure that in the following years she certainly didn’t miss the heartache that she had endured for so much of her life. One day, when I am once again in spirit and I have my life review, I feel certain that all will become clear …… but in the meantime I must admit I really find this all so very hard to understand.

The problem is that I can’t get used to being so ‘old’. Although my body doesn’t exactly feel ‘young’, my head, my mind and my heart does. I’m like a ‘cut and shut’ where bits of me just don’t fit together quite right. My body hasn’t felt very young for a number of years now. Due to a chronic illness I always have pain somewhere and the lack of energy is annoying, but I’ve got used to that over time, it’s been with me for nineteen years, so I should have by now!

No, now the problem is that my body is actually ageing. I’ve noticed the wrinkles deepening and my eyelids kind of folding over, its difficult to describe, but all of my eyelids used to be visible, but now there is extra skin that hangs over them – I’m sure there is a technical name for it – but it’s happened all of a sudden. My legs have never been my strong point, being knock-kneed how I rejoiced when maxi dresses came back into fashion, but now they too are beginning to look like old lady legs. As I’ve aged I’m seeing more and more the family genes take over. Auntie Violet legs – thanks Auntie!

My twin used to be very good at pointing out my short comings, but since her stroke she hasn’t so much and I have been thankful for that. Last Friday when she came over she was looking intently at my hands. Now, she doesn’t often say a lot these days so I normally relish a conversation with her, but on Friday she was not having a good day and was more ‘there’ (wherever that is), than ‘here’, so when she started to talk I was really pleased. “You’ve got”, she looked as if she was frustrated trying to talk, “You’ve got” she tried again, “What am I trying to say?”, “I don’t know sis” I replied, as I often do, because she often asks that. There was another long pause and I always imagine her brain is trying to get into gear, “You’ve got age spots on your hands” she piped up with a big smile, “Oh” I said, a little shocked, “and your hands” she went on, “your hands”, I waited patiently as she gathered her thoughts once again, “your hands aren’t looking so pretty these days, they look wrinkly”. Gee, thanks sis! Well that was certainly worth waiting for!

I hadn’t really looked at her hands before, they are lily white as she has been indoors for almost three years now and she only had one very tiny insignificant age spot. One of her habits since her stroke is applying hand lotion many many times a day, so I must admit her hands do look very soft. Maybe it should become one of my habits too. She isn’t capable of doing any housework or washing up either and I’m sure that plays a big role in my wrinkly, aged spots hand syndrome! Bless her!

I think the reason this birthday has hit me harder than all the rest is that it really is the heading towards sixty birthday, I can’t say I’m in my early fifties anymore, I’ve tilted over the edge of fifty five and fifty six does sound so very grown up! I think, for all of us who have gained some weight, we can look in the mirror and think about when we are slim again, there is a hope that one day we may shed the weight and be back to our ‘real’ slim selves. For me too, there is always the hope that one day I am going to wake up well, that my illness will have scuttled off into the night, never to darken my door again, and I will once again return to the ‘real’ healthy, full of vitality, capable of anything, me. But, looking in the mirror now, seeing my droopy eyelids and, thanks to Tina, being aware of my aged hands, there is no hope that one day the droops will disappear and the wrinkles will all smooth out. I’m not even going to consider discussing the other, more covered up, bits of me, that are patently struggling with age. A girl (or maybe I should at this age say woman) does have to keep some dignity! No, this is it. It really is the beginning of me looking old.

I was chatting to my sister-in-law Wendy just before my birthday. Wendy is sixteen years younger than me (eek, I’m ‘just’ old enough to be her mother!), she is extremely pretty, very petite and super fit. She goes to the gym most days and also leads a very busy life as a hairdresser, a Mum to my two beautiful neices and has a very active social life. She is also, absolutely lovely and great fun to be with. As the years have gone by and we have got to know each other better we enjoy an easy relationship and chat away and discuss anything and everything. I’m so lucky to have her as my sis-in-law. She was asking me how old I was going to be and when I told her she said it is just a number. I laughed, yes, I agreed, but said it was a bloomin’ big number!

This week there was the shocking news of the death of Whitney Houston and it really got me thinking. She had died when she was only forty eight years old. I met Simon when I was that age, and how I would have hated to have missed the wonderful time we have shared together. I have met so many wonderful new people since moving to Hampshire when I was forty eight. For me it was an age when my life turned around, when I had the courage to stand up and be me, to leave an old life and start afresh. I didn’t have Whitneys fame, her talent, her money or her looks, but I did have my own identity, which I sadly feel she was lacking. How sad that her life ended when my new life had just begun. I was thinking that Whitney won’t ever be old enough to be complaining about droopy eyelids and how very fortunate I am to have made it to have a big number birthday.

How sad that so many amazingly talented people just can’t cope with their lives and end up relying so heavily on drugs and alcohol to get through. I wonder how many of them feel lonely, how many question who really likes them for who they are, not what they have or what they can do for them? It must be tough to cope with public adulation when in your heart you are not prepared, when deep down you must know that you are not coping with the success.

I find it strange how many young people say they want to be famous, and yet fame has so many drawbacks, I just don’t understand why anyone would want to be in a position where they can’t even pop out to their local shops without someone taking a snap of them. Where everyone feels they have the right to comment on and often criticise what you wear, who you spend your time with, what you do. What a dreadful way to live your life!

Hopefully Whitney is now beginning a new life in spirit where she will be able to realise how amazingly fortunate she was in so many ways, where she will be able to find some of the joy she had in her life here. I do hope that her soul will heal and with help she will be able to move forward along her pathway. Maybe in her next incarnation she will again have the voice of an angel, but our society may have moved on and she will not be put on such a pedestal, where from such a great height so many have fallen. Maybe next time she’ll happily get to the big number birthdays. Let’s hope so.

How many times in your life have you felt utterly alone? Felt there was no-one who was there was for you? Felt that no-one could understand what you were going through?

Sometimes the very fact that you put a brave face on it, no matter the tough times you are going through, can actually back-fire because everyone thinks that everything in your life is fine. Or, maybe people think that you are one of those lucky few who can cope admirably with anything that is thrown at them. Could it be that maybe your pride is getting in the way of being honest and you prefer people to think that you are ‘strong’ ?

How difficult it can be to be able to reach out when you desperately need a friend.

After I left Devon and moved to Hampshire with my twin sister, Tina, and her family, I was in a very odd ‘friend free’ zone for the first time in my life. After 26 years I had finally plucked up the courage to end my marriage and within a matter of weeks many of my friends were doing exactly the same! It was as if a cosmic switch had come on somewhere and we all decided that enough was enough. My friends are scattered throughout England, and very strangely, all were going through their own very similar difficult and often traumatic times. After they had separated from their husbands they had all stayed in the same towns, so at least they had their local friends around them for support, but due to my ex’s threatening behaviour I decided it was better (and I felt safer) moving far away.

Friends that I had been in regular contact with for years were busy dealing with their own problems and I felt that I couldn’t bother them with my own worries at that time. Tina and her husband, Woody, had adopted six learning disabled children, whose ages ranged from two to fifteen, so they too were pretty busy, sorting out the often complicated special educational and medical needs that the children required in a new area. It was extremely rare for me to get more than a minute or so alone with Tina for a chat, there was always someone who needed her.

Tina and Woody had rented a very large old house so that the children could each have their own bedrooms and fortuitously it had a two bedroom annexe that was perfect for me. Although it was not as grand as the main house, it too had large rooms, all decorated in a very gaudy colours by the previous tenant. The carpets alone were enough to give you a headache. The main lounge was fluorescent yellow, the second bedroom, vibrant lime green and my bedroom was bubble gum pink!

Although I had not one jot of regret for the decision I had made, and knew I was fortunate to have a roof over my head, I suddenly found myself in an alien environment. My ex-home was hundreds of miles away, I had none of my treasured possessions around me, none of the comforts of my previous life. I didn’t have one stick of furniture so went to the local D.I.Y. store and bought the last two fold up garden chairs they had as it was the end of the summer season. They were vibrant yellow and green so almost ‘matched’ the carpet in the lounge and as a bonus they came with cushions, which looked far more comfortable than they really were as I soon found out when I sat on one when I got home. I had never sat on such lumpy cushions. I also bought a table lamp and a small table, so that I could have somewhere to put my coffee, and a small radio so that I could at least have some music to keep me company. I had virtually no money, no income and most of my clothes were still at my old house, so not much at all. My sister had loaned me a single bed and bedding which looked lost in the massive bedroom.

I remember one evening sitting on one of my lumpy cushioned chairs looking out over the garden which was a tangled mess of laurels and holly trees at the time. I remember feeling so terribly lost. I knew that all the legalities involved in both the divorce and the selling and splitting of assets from my marriage were obviously not going to happen overnight. I felt I was in limbo and as if I didn’t belong anywhere, like I had no roots. I don’t think I’d realised how much I had relied on the roots of my life, the roots that come with familiarity of where you live, the friends you see, who you are with, what you are doing everyday.

It is often at times like these when we have to learn to become super resilient, super self-reliant, it is almost as if the universe conspires to put us in a place where we have no option but to dig deep, to delve into our soul’s reserves and find the strength from within ourselves to overcome our fears and concerns.

The realisation of my uncertain future really hit me that night. I concluded that I could look at my life in two opposing ways. I could think how dreadful it was, sitting alone in this cold quiet emptiness that was devoid of anything that meant anything at all to me, or try to look at my new circumstances as a blank canvas, ready for the new adventures of my life to be captured in bright cheerful warm colours.

I was so fortunate in that I felt that I could call on spirit, my guides, my helpers, my loved ones who had passed, and asked them if they could come close. I had a need to know that I did at least, still have my spiritual roots to build on.

As I was sitting there, deep in thought, thinking of my spirit friends, the sun was setting and the most beautiful deep pink and golden rays of the sunset came streaming through my window. I felt my spirits lift, and my immediate thought was that old saying, ‘red sky at night, shepherds delight’ and felt a smile from within.

I shook myself out of my melancholy moment and put on the radio. Of all the songs that could have been playing I heard James Taylor singing one of my favourites. I had no doubt that spirit had played a part in my putting the radio on at that exact time, the choice of the music, and the station I was tuned to. I felt my heart fill with love and comfort as I knew I had received a spiritual hug. Whenever I feel alone now, when I start to miss those that I loved so dearly, I think of that magic moment and the enormous effort that I am sure my family and friends spirit-side put into getting that message to me so clearly. I know that all I have to do is close my eyes, think of them, and they will be here, right beside me.

Written and performed by Carole King, but actually made famous by James Taylor, “You’ve got a friend”.

You’ve Got a Friend

When you’re down and troubled
and you need a helping hand
and nothing, ooh, nothing is going right.
Close your eyes and think of me
and soon I will be there
to brighten up even your darkest nights.

You just call out my name,
and you know wherever I am
I’ll come running, oh yeah baby
to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer or fall,
all you have to do is call
and I’ll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah
You’ve got a friend.

If the sky above you
should turn dark and full of clouds
and that old north wind should begin to blow
Keep your head together and call my name out loud
and soon I will be knocking upon your door.
You just call out my name,
and you know where ever I am
I’ll come running to see you again.
Winter, spring, summer or fall,
all you go to do is call
and I’ll be there, yeah, yeah, yeah

Hey, ain’t it good to know that you’ve got a friend?
People can be so cold.
They’ll hurt you and desert you.
Well they’ll take your soul if you let them.
Oh yeah, but don’t you let them.

You just call out my name,
and you know wherever I am
I’ll come running to see you again.
Oh babe, don’t you know that,
Winter, spring, summer or fall,
Hey now, all you’ve got to do is call.
Lord, I’ll be there, yes I will.
You’ve got a friend.
You’ve got a friend.
Ain’t it good to know you’ve got a friend.
Ain’t it good to know you’ve got a friend.
You’ve got a friend

Every New Year’s Eve there is a global feeling of anticipation that changes are afoot. No matter where you are, who you are with or what you are doing, it is almost impossible to miss the dawning of the new year. All around the world there are massive celebrations, huge displays of fireworks, parties arranged and a feeling of camaraderie that only exists for maybe even just a few minutes either side of midnight. If you are in a large city or even at a local event, complete strangers may well hug and kiss and you and wish you a happy new year.

And then, the morning arrives, and all is back to normal. What happened to the optimism of the night before? Where has the camaraderie gone? Is there any perceivable change in your life from yesterday?

No other species on our planet celebrates New Year. I’ve never seen sheep dancing in a field at midnight! So why do we feel the need to make such a big deal out of a change of year in our calendars? Is it that we have an intrinsic need to focus on the possibility of change for good? Is it that we are dissatisfied with our lives and want a better future? Why is there such a negative spin in our news through most of the year, and maybe just a glimmer of positivity on New Year’s Eve? Why do we look forward to the New Year rather than spend time celebrating the year we have just had? How many people will look back at the year that is coming to a close and be thankful for the experiences they have enjoyed, the spiritual advances they have made, the new friendships formed, the new lives that have begun, the understanding and compassion that has been shown to them, or they have shown to others? It always feels to me that it’s all about looking forward to the new and getting rid of the past. What a shame.

I just read a wonderful blog written by a woman who has been making huge changes to her life. About accepting that she didn’t have to be superwoman after all, that she can feel free to follow her dreams. I felt that this arrived in my inbox at just the right time to be included in this end of year posting. She importantly mentioned the notion of ‘having it all’ and as I commented on her post, I thought long and hard about that well used phrase. Why can’t we have it all, I wondered? But, most importantly, we first have to qualify what having it all truly means to each of us individually. It will be different for each and every one of us. None of us have to adhere to the classic examples portrayed in the media, to the general consensus, to society’s view of what this phrase means. No, we can take it and shape it to suit us.

My interpretation of having it all had to change drastically when I became chronically ill, when my life had no option but to become smaller. Suddenly, having it all had to alter to fit in with my physical capabilities. My expectations had to change. It took a long time to adjust, but now I can say I truly feel fulfilled, feel loved, respected and accepted. I am true to my beliefs, to my spiritual goals, to my souls desires. That to me is having it all. I don’t try to be something I’m not and hope that I don’t expect that of others. My days of trying to be superwoman are long gone!

Instead of only focussing on what the New Year may bring to our lives, just on New Year’s Eve, why not think of every new day as the dawning of a new year. Feel the optimism and the camaraderie with others throughout the year. Consider what we, those we love and those who are in need, really require, and try to work towards that. When we go to sleep at night remember to thank spirit for the positives we can take from the day and ask what our expectations and intentions should be for tomorrow. Look at our lives and learn from our experiences. Feel if we have managed, in our own way, to have it all, even just for that one day. Sense if we have inspired others and if we have been at all instrumental in them finding fulfilment in their lives.

Many people spend much time in thought and then make long lists of resolutions for the new year. Maybe they find that the list will motivate them to bring about change in their lives. Maybe their resolution list is in fact more of a wish list. How many of us have written this list and targeted massive changes that are due to take place from 1st January only to give up within a matter of days or even a couple of weeks? The resolutions soon become forgotten.

So, for this change of year, as the clock passes midnight, and 2011 becomes 2012, I am not going to make a resolution. I am instead going to make a promise to spirit. I will promise to treat each day as a new dawn knowing it has the spiritual potential for the greatest of expectations.

Mum always made certain that even though she had three children she would make time for each of us individually. These times weren’t necessarily important dates or special occasions, just time we all had alone with Mum whilst we did everyday things.

Mum and I always used to make the mince pies for Christmas whilst the rest of the family would be in the lounge watching television. In those days we would always wear a pinny when we were cooking. I don’t know why really, because these days not many people ever do. When we put our pinnys on it was almost a sign that we meant business, we were undertaking important and valuable work and we were set apart from the rest of the family in their civvies.

It was during these Christmas baking times that we would often chat about Mum’s life as a young woman, where she lived, what she did, who she shared her life with. She had the most wonderful knack of talking about how life affected her when she was the same age as us. It bought to life, in our minds, her history. When I was growing up I always seemed to think of Mum and Dad’s childhood in black and white, like an old movie. I always thought that their clothes would have been scratchy for some reason. Strange what goes through children’s minds.

Mum had a difficult childhood, bought up by her Dad and a variety of Aunts, until her Dad married when she was nine years old. She adored her Dad more than anyone in the world and would often become tearful when she talked about the wonderful Christmas’s she shared with him. He had died before I was born, and she never really managed to overcome her grief. I found that very hard to understand as a child, especially as I had never met him, so he didn’t seem real to me, even though Mum told me so much about him. It was as if she was describing an old film she’d seen.

Something though that Mum said, that has always stuck in my mind, was that she always felt it was important to make new memories. Not to erase the old ones, but to add to our itinerary of memories, to make our own histories. That seemed strange when I was a young girl, but as I’ve grown older I do understand what she meant by that.

We all have times in our lives that our thoughts go back to, especially at Christmas. Times we wish with all our hearts that could be repeated right now. People that have passed through our lives who we miss and wish that we could be with once again. In Mum’s case it was definitely time that she spent with her Dad. She would have given the world to spend even just a few moments with him once more.

I cherish the memory of my Dad singing Christmas carols on Christmas Eve the last Christmas he was alive. We were at a very grand party and the local choir were singing traditional carols. We were in a huge elegant room with a grand piano and we were sat on the type of furniture you normally only see in stately homes. The type where the ropes are around them to stop the public touching it! It really wouldn’t have mattered where we were, my memory is of my Dad’s twinkling blue eyes, his warm smile and his deep rich voice. I was so very proud of him. I would give anything to be back at that party with my Dad.

I cherish the memory of Mum and I cooking Christmas dinner, drinking too much sherry, and laughing and giggling like a couple of teenagers whilst we jived around the kitchen to ‘Rocking Around the Christmas Tree’.

I cherish the memory of my daughter rushing into my bedroom first thing in the morning, so excited to tell me that Father Christmas had been, with her arms full of presents that she wanted to open on my bed.

I cherish the memory of Ray, my brother, playing his guitar, making up his own silly verses to Christmas Carols, whilst drinking his favourite brandy and coke. ‘Merry Crimbo’ he used to say.

I cherish the memory of my twin sister, Tina and I, waking up to find chocolate santas lined up around our beds and beautiful party dresses, one made for each of us, hanging on our wardrobe door.

So many memories of wonderful Christmas’s, but now, as they say, those days are gone. It’s tough. I know it always will be. If I could just snap my fingers and be back there just once more …………..

Now, I have new memories to make. Memories where in the future I’ll look back and long for these days. Where I’ll wish with all my heart to be able to share these times once more. That’s the Christmas I’m going to have with the people who are in my life right now, the people I share these special times with, the people I hold dear and love and cherish. This Christmas will be part of my history.

WordPress have this wonderful idea – Post a Blog a Day! They even give you a nice little intro that you can copy and post to your blog – but of course, when I tried, it refused to paste, so here is my version:

Having weaved my way around the WordPress site, trying to glean tips for the a new blogger, I somehow came across what is termed The Daily Post. Its is full of inspiring ideas to help us bloggers blog a little more. To begin with we have to add widgets and tags and things, some of which I find more than a little formidable. I have read, re-read and read again the easy to use instructions, and as the intelligent woman I still try to consider I am, I find I am still none the wiser.

I have, as instructed, pointed my mouse at the widget picture and clicked and then gone backwards and forwards to my blog ‘dashboard’ (that’s the technical word for the technical background bit of my blog, a bit like an engine for a car) and clicked here and there and have still found I haven’t got the widget I need. It’s so much like my car, I know where the pedals are and the steering wheel, but put me under the bonnet and I have no idea what is what! I have learnt more about tags in the last couple of weeks, but I’m not quite sure of the difference between a tag and a category, so I always end up with a mixture of the two. My ever helpful husband, advised me to keep a list of tags and categories on my desktop so that it would be easy for me to find for future use. Hmmm, I’m sure it would be if I knew where on earth my computer had saved them. I’ve made several lists of tags and categories now and can never find them again. There must be a mass of lists somewhere in my laptop that I’m sure one day will come to light, but for the moment at least they are very much hidden.

So, to get back to this wonderful innovative idea of ‘post a blog a day’. The challenge is to find inspiration from ideas that the Daily Post will give us bloggers, and then be able to write about it. To me it sounds very much like a class I took with the Accolade Academy in Margam, Wales, with the most wonderful spiritual tutor, Tony Stockwell.

He had the bright idea that each of us would choose a random word and then someone in the class would have to talk about it for at least five minutes. You couldn’t prepare this talk, or do any kind of background research, it had to be totally off the cuff and ideally inspired by spirit. We all had to have a go, and I must say it was good fun once you get over the ‘I’m sounding like a total idiot’ phase. The problem was, that unknown to us students, Tony was walking around the class listening in and was deciding who he would choose to demonstrate inspired speaking to the whole course on the final night. He walked up to me with a big smile on his face and told me I was going to be one of his chosen students! It was more than a little daunting, he told us that we could talk about absolutely any word at all, for at least five minutes.

The other classes on the course also had students that had been chosen by their tutors and the evening before the ‘performance’ I could see everyone busily writing notes and discussing their ideas. I thought I must have the wrong idea, because I had not prepared anything at all. I guessed that if it was supposed to be inspired then you should leave it to spirit and trust them to inspire you. I went to bed that night concerned that maybe I should have spent the evening in preparation instead of chatting socially with friends. I spoke to Tony the next morning and asked him if I had got it wrong. He laughed and said, no, it was supposed to be inspired and no preparation was necessary.

In a way that sounded too easy and too terrifying all at the same time. The whole day my tummy was full of butterflies, not gently fluttering away, no, these butterflies had boots on and were stampeding around, and I was dreading the moment I would be called to talk. As we all took our seats I thought that I would feel better once I had seen a few others give their talks, but little did I know that I was to be called up first! Looking back though it is a bit like having a dentists appointment first thing in the morning. You get it over and done with and can then get on with enjoying your day.

I had been visibly shaking at the thought of standing up in front of all these people, my stomach was churning, my mouth was dry and my palms were sweaty. Amazingly as soon as my name was called and I walked to the front, a feeling of calm came over me. I still had no idea what I was going to talk about. There was a stand by the side of me with a description of all that Accolade Academy offers its students. “Understanding your Awareness”, was one of the phrases that caught my eye. Suddenly I was off, chatting about awareness. I don’t know how long I spoke for, and to be honest I can barely remember what I said, but I did feel it flowed and was certainly inspired. Phew, was I pleased when I could sit down.

So, I am going to try to approach this ‘blog a day’ challenge in exactly the same way. All I have to do is trust that spirit will inspire me …. they have never let me down yet!

Several years ago I had been through the most difficult year of my life. My Mum, my brother and my Dad were all taken to spirit within weeks of each other and I felt my heart was breaking. At the same time, as well as dealing with my own personal losses, there was so much negativity everywhere.

With the rest of the world I watched in horror as the events unfolded on 9/11 and I felt so useless, as if there was absolutely nothing I could do to help, even in a small way, to make the world a better place. I felt desolate.

Every time I put the television or radio on there was more depressing news. I have never understood how people could be so cruel to one another, or use their own greed to take from the needy. There seemed to be an avalanche of distressing events on a global scale.

I sat in the quiet and asked my guides how this could happen. How could so many people be in such distress? Why were children dying of starvation? Why were so many countries at war? I was questioning my faith in God or the Higher Powers. I felt so sad in my heart and was desperate for answers. I wanted someone to shout that it was all a mistake, that everything would be put right.

I felt my writing guide come in close. I have learnt that a light stroke of my hair on the back of my head is the unmistakable nudge to find a piece of paper and a pen and just to listen and write what I hear, nothing more.

This is what I received.

Life’s Lessons.

If life were as kind as we thought it should be,

there’d be no worries or woes, everything would be trouble-free.

There would always be sunshine and only rain at night,

there’d be no storms to wreak havoc, we’d never witness nature’s might.

Every child would be born perfectly healthy and strong,

There’d be no need to teach right from wrong.

There would be no famines and certainly no wars,

Every country in harmony with its neighbour next door.

No violence, no terror, there would be no need,

no-one would be selfish or suffer from greed.

But in reality, this just isn’t so,

we all need life’s lessons to help us to grow.

To overcome difficulties, to rise above pain,

we need challenges and dreams, it’s from those that we gain.

Whenever I find myself questioning the unfairness of situations that the innocent find themselves in, the terrible traumatic events that so many have to go through, the heartbreak and tragic losses people experience, I read this and try to understand. It is not easy. It takes a lot for me to look at the bigger picture and try to accept that our souls have to move forward through these dreadful lessons of life. I hope that one day we will find an easier way.